On the Hot Pavement
by Bardess of Avon
Summary: And born like we was on the hot pavement. Collection of unrelated Anybodys/A-Rab ficlets.
1. Numb

A/N: For anyone who doesn't know me, I am hopelessly obsessed with Anybodys and A-Rab, especially when they're paired _together_. So I decided to compile all of the little snippets I write about them into one fic, which is, obviously, titled "On the Hot Pavement." The title is courtesy of **Vee**, as is much of this fic. The first two chapters are oneshots I've already had up and are reposting under this fic, but you may want to reread them anyway, thanks to some heavy revision.

I…honestly cannot explain what brought this chapter on. Anybodys took control of my hands and made me type this out. This isn't exactly _dirty_, per se (at least, not enough to get it an M-rating), but it's definitely something I wouldn't recommend reading unless you're in high school at least.

I adore feedback; remember, I can only improve with your help, and if you liked it, I would like to know what so I can keep that in mind! :)

Disclaimer: I own absolutely no part of the _West Side Story_ franchise.

* * *

Anybodys follows Riff into Doc's. It's empty, and she's glad, because she has to talk to him. "Riff, I'll do _anything_ ta get in the gang!"

Riff sighs, plopping down in a chair. "You're a _girl_, Anybodys. The only way you're getting' in…" He shakes his head. "Aw, forget it."

Anybodys suddenly stands right in front of him. After a moment's pause, she straddles his lap. He looks terrified. "Anybodys, what the hell—?"

"You said it's the only way I'm gettin' in," she reminds him, rotating her hips against his. She can feel the bulge there and can feel it swelling beneath her.

"I was just…Anybodys…c'mon…don't," he protests weakly.

She doesn't want to do it, not really, but she _has_ to get in the gang, she just _has_ to, and if this is her only chance…

And suddenly it's not Riff anymore. It's A-Rab, and his hands slide up to grip her waist. The bulge is still swelling and it's setting so many nerves on fire she feels numb. She finds herself wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him as he lowers his head to drop kisses along her collarbone. "You want in the gang?" he breathes. "Prove it."

And here's the part that gets her: she does.

.

Anybodys wakes up with the sheets kicked down to the foot of the bed and her tank top sticking to her and a very noticeable ache between her legs. It's such a foreign feeling that she has no idea what to do for a moment. But it's impossible to ignore, and so she clutches her pillow close to her, clamping her legs together and muffling the groan—of pain? Pleasure, even?—and praying _._

It does, but she still can't forget the dream, no matter how hard she tries.

.

She asks Riff for real to let her in the gang later that day.

"How else is she gonna get a guy ta touch her?" A-Rab teases.

She lunges at him, wanting to wipe that smirk off his face, that smirk that seems to taunt her as if he knows what she dreamt. And when his hands come up to grip her attacking arms, she feels that same numbness again.


	2. And the World Went Away

A/N: I originally posted this as a oneshot, but after some consideration and heavy internal debating (which, I believe, is the first sign of insanity—how fortunate for me), I decided to add this to my compilation of A-Rab/Anybodys ficlets. Even if you've already read this, you may want to reread it; this has undergone some _major_ revision, most of which is thanks to my one and only fanfiction twin, **Vee**; some of the lines here are her work, and I really couldn't have revised this without her. Thanks, lovely; this chapter's just for you :)

* * *

It only takes one night for the world to go away.

Two people found this out one night—an immigrant girl of sixteen, still fresh and green from Puerto Rico, not yet tarnished by the city; and a boy of eighteen, searching for an escape from the bitterness that came with being a Polack and part of a gang. One night, the wild mambo moving around them melted, and what was just a world became a star. They were unreachable, just the two of them…until the star burned out and they fell back to the world below as suddenly and painfully as the bullet that ripped Tony from his Maria.

It took awhile for the Jets and the Sharks to coexist peacefully. They still gazed at each other with the deepest of mistrust in their eyes for a time—their girls went nowhere unaccompanied, though the borders between turfs were rigidly held in place. There was no more name-calling or spitting or antagonizing, but they still watched each other with the menace of a wildcat ready to pounce on its prey.

Peace came slowly but, under Maria's guiding hand, surely. It started out simply enough—Baby John carrying Maria's grocery bags, Chile helping Clarice reach something on a store shelf, Luis lending Minnie his handkerchief, Teresita lending Snowboy a nickel. Soon Graziella could be seen walking into Madam Lucia's Bridal Shop for a dress that hid her swelling abdomen well; the Sharks could enter Doc's and the playground freely. There were still a few scuffles that broke out, especially where Action was concerned, but they became as mild as a five-minute scuffle between Joyboy and Snowboy, and those were never anything to worry about.

Just as things were starting to level out and become normal, just as the Jets and Sharks accepted each other and Maria and Anita and Graziella looked as if they might be able to move on, Alice Wyzek decided that life was not worth living without her boy. Tony had been the best part of her life—a life without him was an empty shell. And so she loaded into her hand the belladonna pills—purchased from Doc, no less—and succumbed to the deadly nightshade.

It was a hard blow to the teenagers of the Upper West Side. After all of their hard work, all the bridges they'd built and all the pride they'd pushed aside, she'd just…given up. As if she didn't have any hope for them—as if she _couldn't_ have any hope for them. The idea that anyone was so dismayed in them scared quite a few of them.

A-Rab wasn't sure he could handle it. He had barely been able to function after Riff and Bernardo, and he had had a breakdown and punched a hole in his wall after Tony had died. Mrs. Wyzek's death—and the manner in which it was carried out—worried him more than angered him; he didn't know whether to be angry as before or dejected as he felt now. He needed something, something to help him keep cool. But what? What could possibly soothe him after such news? It was like telling someone to drown a fire without water.

Similarly, Anybodys was scampering around on the fire escapes, unable to hold still for even a moment. She wanted to cry, ached to release the tears, but she felt as if she would die if she sat still for a moment too long. She ran out of breath, could feel her blood rushing through her body and begging her to pause. She dropped down a final ladder and stumbled to a stoop, dropping down onto it and gasping, shuddering.

Their paths inevitably crossed.

A-Rab heard her before he saw her, heard her shuddering gasps before he noticed the huddled bundle of fear on the stoop a few feet ahead. He paused and then moved forward, standing before her. He expected her to glare up at him with her steely eyes and snap at him, but she didn't. He almost wanted her to be angry, but his strength failed when he saw her dull eyes. He dropped onto the stoop beside her, staring at his tennis shoes, which seemed to give off an eerie white glow in the dark.

"I feel like I can't breathe," she whispered.

"Me too," he agreed quietly. He tried to heave a shuddering sigh and found himself unable to gather enough air. "Everything's gonna change again."

"Good or bad?"

He wasn't sure. He shrugged, his jacket rustling. "I dunno. An' I don't wanna think about it."

Anybodys was quiet for a minute. Then, "D'ya think…it was s'posed ta happen?"

A-Rab was still. "Whaddya mean?"

She took a trembling breath. "I mean…ma told me once…she almost killed herself aftah Tony's dad died. She only stayed alive 'cause-a Tony. Maybe…maybe it was s'posed ta happen all along…"

"Stop it," A-Rab said at once, his voice cracking. He didn't want to think about that right now—hell, he didn't want to think about that _ever_.

They were quiet for a moment. Anybodys sensed that A-Rab was not angry with her and hesitantly spoke again. "Why can't we just go back to the way things were?" she whispered. "Remember the dance the night before it, before it happened? How everyone was so _happy_? We was just showin' off…we didn't know…the next night…they would be dead…"

A-Rab wasn't sure why, but without thinking, his arm shot out and wrapped around her scrawny little shoulders. And for some reason, she didn't pull away or shake him off or even flinch. She went still for a moment, and then, much to A-Rab's surprise, scooted in closer. He tried to justify it by the fact that he was wearing a jacket and she was only in her ratty t-shirt, but somehow, he knew that wasn't _really_ the case. So he kept his arm right where it was, knowing that it wasn't safe to move much closer to her.

But she was persistent. "Hold me tighter, A-Rab."

He couldn't reject her, not when she said it in that small little voice. So he pulled her closer until his hand could touch his chest, and she buried herself into his side. And it felt _nice_. He resisted the temptation to droop his head onto hers; it wasn't right. He shouldn't do it. It was just Mrs. Wyzek's death affecting him; he would feel differently later. He had to keep cool. But how the hell was he expected to keep cool when she made him feel as if he were on fire?

He winced and tried to put some space in between them, tried to keep himself from doing something he might regret later. His shift did absolutely nothing to help, for her fingers clutched at his shirt then, refusing to let go. And though he felt as if her fingers were burning into his chest, he had rarely felt so _good_. But he wanted, needed more. It was all he understood at that moment; his mind could tell him little else.

And so he turned to her and pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn't a kiss; not really. A-Rab dropped his face from hers before it had time to turn into a kiss, burning with shame and numb to the fingers that clutched tighter at his shirt.

"Don't you do that ta me," she breathed in a low voice.

He shook his head. He couldn't find words. "I…I'm losin' it, Anybodys."

"Ya don't have to hold it back," she told him simply. Seeing the indecision on his face, she brushed her fingers across his face and tilted her head, her lips meeting his.

This time he let it happen, let his emotions take over. Somehow, he didn't feel the remorse he had expected—he felt a release. He leaned back against the concrete steps of the stoop, the arm that had been around her shoulders sliding down to her back, pulling her against him. His other hand rested on the curve where her shoulder met her neck, his fingers electric with the feel of her rapid pulse.

She shifted, wriggling until she sat sideways in his lap, her legs dangling over his. She brought her fingers up to either side of his face, bringing the fire he was so addicted to as their heads moved in rhythm with each other, their lips meeting again and again. And while their lips touched, the world went away.

How long they sat like that, neither of them could tell. It was still dark when they pulled apart, the stars still dim with Alice Wyzek's death. Neither of them spoke, neither of them tried to say that she would have wanted some affection (it wasn't love—not just yet) in such a world or anything to justify why they had done it. They had found peace in a moment where the world as they knew it had fallen apart, and it needn't have been acknowledged by words.

Not long afterwards, he moved down the street, his hands in his jacket pockets and his mind turning over and over, and she scampered up the ladder and into the jungle of back alleys and fire escapes. They didn't know when they would see each other again, and for some reason…it didn't really seem to matter. They weren't like Tony and Maria had been, needing to be around each other as much as possible. But a change _had_ occurred that night, and not just in Mrs. Wyzek's permanent absence. They were joined by a bond now, a bond neither could explain or even fully understand. It made sense in its own way.

Mrs. Wyzek's death would not be the last. Others would follow—and each time, life would freeze. A-Rab would wander down the streets, his eyes searching each stoop, and Anybodys would scramble over fire escapes, her eyes searching each sidewalk. Their paths would cross and the world would go away for a moment—and soon, they began losing track of time and space in the hours between dusk and dawn, forgetting everything that was too hard to face in anything but each other.

It only takes one night for the world to go away.


	3. Screw Valentine's Day

A/N: Because I hate Valentine's Day, and so do A-Rab and Anybodys.

* * *

The door to the roof slammed, causing Anybodys to jerk. A-Rab zipped up his jacket, glancing around. His eyes fell on her and he raised his eyebrows. "What're you doin' up here?"

"Same thing you came up here ta do," Anybodys informed him glumly.

A-Rab snorted and jammed his hands into his pockets as he moved to sit against the ledge she was also sitting against. "I think I may throw up."

Anybodys wordlessly handed him the rum bottle she was drinking from. A-Rab took a grateful swig, giving the smallest of flinches as the fiery liquid met his throat. "God, I needed that."

Anybodys took the bottle back, tipping some down her throat. "So why aren't you wrapped around some girl right now? They're awful easy today."

A-Rab scoffed. "Only if ya feel like actin' like a complete _moron_ ta get 'em. Which I _ain't_."

"Yer givin' up sex?" Anybodys asked disbelievingly. "_Damn_."

A-Rab shoved her. "Aw, can it. It ain't like I'd die without it or somethin'." At Anybodys's disbelieving look, he amended, "I dunno—the fifteen _good_ minutes ya get out of a chick ain't worth the _hours_-a kissin' up. 'Specially today; ya gotta work even _harder_ on Valentine's Day."

Anybodys handed him the bottle sympathetically. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

A-Rab shook his head as he downed another gulp. "They want ya ta be all _romantic_ an' _spontaneous_. Susan found out I didn't waste my money on flowers or chocolate an' got all huffy."

"Yeah, well, that's Susan," Anybodys said scornfully. "What's wrong with Pauline?"

A-Rab took another bitter swig. "She an' Gee-Tar disappeared; three guesses where _they_ went."

"Yeah, but she'll be open in, like, five minutes," Anybodys scoffed. "An' yes, I said 'open' intentionally."

A-Rab shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Anybodys eyed him warily. "Yer scarin' me, A-Rab."

A-Rab sighed, dropping his head back. "Yeah, well, I just ain't in the mood fer chicks today, not when they're bein' so _stupid_."

"Chicks're always stupid; they're just stupider on Valentine's Day," Anybodys said sagely. "I don't get why ya'd even put up with 'em fer those fifteen minutes; no lay can be worth the shit you idiots come up with ta get their attention."

"An' you would know?" A-Rab challenged, somewhat testy.

Anybodys flushed. "Well…not from firsthand experience," she mumbled. "I just…hear things."

After a moment of silence, A-Rab cleared his throat. "Hey Anybodys."

"Yeah?"

"You ever been kissed?"

Anybodys jerked and looked at him in horror. "Aw, don't go on askin' that!"

"Why not?" A-Rab asked, nonplussed.

"'Cause whenever a guy asks a girl that in the movies, they always end up kissin'!" Anybodys declared, scooting away a few inches. "An' I do _not_ wanna put my face anywhere near yer ugly mug!"

"Believe me, the feelin' is mutual," A-Rab snapped, turning a little pink. "I was just _askin'_ outta _curiosity_. 'Sides, this ain't the movies, _little girl_."

Anybodys, eyeing him suspiciously, said, "No. I ain't been. I mean, who woulda done it?"

She had a point; the only people Anybodys ever spent time with were the Jets, and A-Rab was fairly certain that none of the Jets would kiss her, and even if they would, they would almost certainly brag to the others about it. A-Rab shrugged. "I dunno…I just wondered." He glanced over at her and, struck with an idea, said, "I got an idea."

"That's a first," Anybodys muttered.

Ignoring her, A-Rab continued, "I wanna get drunk. You in?"

Anybodys lifted an eyebrow. "'Scuse me?"

A-Rab stood up impatiently. "Ain't like there's anything _else_ ta do, includin' chicks." He paused to smirk at her. "I mean, unless ya wanna stay up here in the cold all _alone_…"

"Wasn't that what I was doin' 'fore you came up an' stole my rum?" Anybodys quipped, nevertheless getting to her feet. "I'll go with ya. But we're playin' Truth or Dare, minus the Truth part."

A-Rab pouted. "But last time ya made me run down Columbus without any clothes on! An' it was _cold_!"

"I know," Anybodys said, looking extremely smug. She put her hands on her hips. "I mean, unless ya'd rather drink _alone_…"

"Aw, fuck you," A-Rab said without any real rancor, moving towards the door.

"No thanks," Anybodys fired back, snatching her rum back from him and darting down the stairs as he tore after her.


	4. Jealous

A/N: There's only one word to explain why I wrote this chapter: prom. Oh, and stupid boys. And apparently non-friends. And now I'm going to stop before I go any further.

But basically boys are stupid, as Anybodys is about to find out.

* * *

"Jealousy is always born with love, but does not always die with it."

-François Duc de La Rochefoucauld, _Maxims_

* * *

Anybodys is pissed off, and she's not quite sure why.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she's at one of those stupid cornball dances that she hates. Well, okay, she doesn't _hate_ them, especially when she and A-Rab bring their flasks and spike the punchbowl (the only good Glad Hand, A-Rab likes to say, is a drunk one), but there are a lot of places she'd rather be than, well, the _gym_. Still, she's having fun, so that doesn't really account for her bad mood.

It could be because the guys are making the usual jokes about her attire (honestly, you'd think almost four years of dressing like a boy would've sunk in with them. Then again, Anybodys thinks disdainfully, they can be awfully dumb sometimes) and goosing her whenever her back is turned. Still, that's nothing unusual, even if she is getting sick of Snowboy acting like it's a novel trick he hasn't tried sixty-eleven times before.

It might even be because Ice and Velma are still painfully cow-eyed around one another, because apparently almost two years of dating isn't quite enough to carry them out of the honeymoon phase. Anybodys doesn't mind Velma so much anymore, but that doesn't stop her from feeling a flicker of annoyance every time the pretty blonde and the boy she has wrapped around her finger start making eyes at each other. Still, they usually just make her nauseous instead of pissed off, so that doesn't quite fit in with her present mood.

It could even be because A-Rab didn't bring the gin tonight, and honestly, what good is a fellow rank-and-file if he can't even bring some simple gin to a dance to make Glad Hand and Krupke act a little tipsy? Of course, Schrank caught them last time, and Anybodys isn't exactly willing to duck that nightstick again anytime soon, so she can't exactly be mad at A-Rab for that. Even if she does like finding excuses to be mad at him.

It could quite possibly have something to do with him making out with Carla Santorini at the moment. But that's stupid, because that makes no sense. Sure, Anybodys hates Carla Santorini—just like she hates every other girl who isn't her sister or Minnie Goddard. The fact that Carla has the hots for Big Deal and dated his kid brother to get his attention doesn't help matters much. The fact that Carla's currently wound around A-Rab doesn't help matters at _all_. Not that she's jealous, or anything. Please. No, she's just…concerned, is all. Who knows where's Carla's mouth has _been_? What if A-Rab gets some kind of orally-transmitted disease or something?

And then Anybodys reminds herself that after all the time he spends with Pauline, if he hasn't gotten a transmissible disease by now, he _never_ will. Still, that doesn't stop her from thinking he looks like a huge dope right now. _Everyone_ knows Carla changes boys as often as she changes her flashy outfits, because all of them are just tinker-toys; the only boy she _really_ wants is Big Deal, and that certainly isn't happening anytime soon. A-Rab knows it, too, which is even more frustrating; what self-respecting guy sucks face with a girl he _knows_ isn't really into him?

Maybe that _is_ what's pissing her off so badly. She knows that A-Rab is a far cry from a nice guy and that this scummy kind of behavior really shouldn't surprise her at all, and yet…it does. She should've known, of course; just because A-Rab doesn't _always_ act like a dick doesn't mean he _isn't_ one. Because he is. Apparently.

She turns away in disgust, snorting so loudly that several girls nearby give her dirty looks and edge away. Anybodys looks for a distraction and spies Baby John and Minnie by the punchbowl, each clutching plastic cups of punch and smiling shyly at each other. She stalks over to them, trying to keep her annoyance in check; she really doesn't feel like explaining to either one of them just _why_ she's in a bad mood, mostly because she herself doesn't know why.

"Oh, hello, Anybodys," Minnie says brightly.

"What's up?" Baby John asks her; he knows Anybodys well enough by now to know when she's in a bad mood.

Anybodys blows out a breath of air, running a hand through her short red hair as she _doesn't_ look at A-Rab sucking Carla Santorini's face off. "Let's blow this joint, yeah?" she asks.

The couple glance at each other. Baby John licks his lips, "Well, Anybodys, it's just that…well, I was gonna walk Minnie home tonight. A-alone."

Anybodys blinks. Of all the people she's ever expected to tell her, "Get lost so I can lock lips with my girlfriend," (no matter how politely), Baby John was not one of them. She forces her shoulders into a shrug. "Oh, okay."

"I'm awfully sorry, Anybodys," Minnie says, looking it.

Anybodys shakes her head. "Nah, it's fine. I'll catch youse two later, yeah?" And without waiting for a response, she heads towards the door, angry and annoyed and hurt and lost all at the same time. She's about halfway down the block when the Jet whistle stops her. She returns the whistle, turning around to see who's coming. She expects her heart to sink when she sees who's approaching, so she's a little confused when it starts thumping wildly instead as A-Rab jogs towards her.

"You goin' home?" he asks, catching up to her.

Anybodys shrugs, wondering why she isn't quite so pissed off anymore. "Ain't like there's anywhere better ta go."

A-Rab considers this. "Wanna go ta the movies?"

Anybodys raises an eyebrow. "What about Carla?"

"What _about_ her?" A-Rab asks, looking annoyed as he kicks at a loose pebble of pavement.

"Wasn't you two just swappin' spit a minute ago?" Anybodys asks, incredulous.

A-Rab rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and?"

Anybodys puts her hands on her hips. "A-Rab, you _never_ just let it go at that."

A-Rab rolls his eyes again. "Well, _I_ don't, but _she_ did. Now, ya mind if we drop the subject an' go see a movie or somethin'?"

Anybodys feels inexplicably happy all of a sudden and tries to hide a smirk. "Sure." She arranges her face into an expression of nonchalance. "What's out, anyway?"

A-Rab shrugs. "Hell if I know."

"'Cause ya know I can't watch a movie unless it's got a car chase or a fight or at least a few gunshots," Anybodys reminds him. "I ain't gonna watch one-a them girly movies."

"_Nobody_ watches girly movies," A-Rab scoffs, loosening his tie. "Ya _watch_ action movies; ya just make out durin' them girly movies."

Anybodys crosses her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. "You implyin' somethin'?"

A-Rab, whose mind is not only always in the sewer, but in a reeking cesspool, smirks and slides an arm around her scrawny shoulders. "Well, I was gonna say we could throw popcorn if it was a girly movie, but if _that's_ what ya wanna do…"

Anybodys scoffs. "With you? As if." She rolls her shoulders, shrugging his arm off of her. "I'd rather kiss a monkey." She makes sure to let her eyes rove up and down his body. "Not that there's much difference…"

A-Rab smirks, reaching for her waist in an exaggerated motion. "Why Anybodys, am I makin' you uncomfortable?" he asks with the kind of overdone innocence he uses on Glad Hand.

"No, but I'll make _you_ uncomfortable if ya don't watch it," Anybodys warns him, grinning nevertheless as she wriggles out of his grip. She skips ahead a few steps, just far enough away so that she doesn't hear the sigh slip from his lips before he jogs to catch up to her, forgetting about the very pissed-off Carla Santorini he left only a few moments ago and turning his attention to the skinny little tomboy beside him.


	5. Gee, Officer Krupke

A/N: The inspiration for this fic is purely and totally from this week's episode of _Glee_, "Never Been Kissed." WHICH HAD DARREN CRISS IN IT, OMG. TEENAGE DREAM, ANYONE? But I digress. If you've seen the episode and you know the hedgehogs, you probably know exactly where this is headed. If not, well, you will soon enough. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Ernest Lehman and the inspiration lies with _Glee_.

* * *

A man has to do what a man has to do, whether it's knocking out another guy for insulting his manliness or pretending he hasn't been plagued with arachnophobia since childhood while killing a spider his mother is screaming about; men constantly go to great lengths to protect their reputations, and A-Rab is no exception.

It's really hard to maintain that reputation, however, when his girlfriend can give him a hard-on by doing…well, just about anything. The fact that she's currently pressed up against him on her bed and doing completely illegal things to him (how she figured out his sweet spot is the pulse point on his neck is _completely_ beyond him) does not help matters. At all. He knows that they aren't quite _there_ yet; even though they've already been dating two whole months (a record for how long A-Rab's gone without getting laid), he _is_ her first boyfriend, and as annoying as all these cold showers are starting to get, he's not going to push her into doing something he really, _really_ wants to do if she isn't ready for it yet.

Still. It's really hard (pun intended) to keep from letting his hormone-driven body take over when she's doing all of these wonderful things to him. It's his own fault, of course; he just _had_ to teach her his favorite things. What an idiot. He's getting very close when it just slips from his lips.

"_Krupke_."

Anybodys freezes, and A-Rab has no doubt in his mind that yes, he _did_ just say that out loud.

His girlfriend sits back, staring. "_What_ did you just say?"

A-Rab stares back, panicking. "Uh." He thinks hard. "Can you…keep up…with me?" he tries lamely.

Anybodys stares for another moment before narrowing her eyes. "That ain't what you said."

"Oh, really? What did I say, then?" he challenges, sitting up against her pillows.

She folds her arms over her chest. "You said _Krupke_."

A-Rab scoffs, hoping to God his cheeks aren't going as red as he thinks they are. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard. Why…_why_ would I say that?"

Anybodys huffs. "I dunno, you tell me."

"Babe, c'mon…_why_ would I say 'Krupke' while I'm makin' out with _you_?" he says, hoping he sounds convincing as he reaches for her waist.

But she slaps his hands off of her. "I know what I heard, A-Rab!" she snaps. "Either you tell me why you said the name of Manhattan's ugliest cop when yer with _me_, or this?" She gestures between the two of them. "Ain't happenin' anymore."

A-Rab whines, because he knows his girlfriend is just stubborn enough to actually follow through on that threat. "Anybodys! C'mon, it's…it's stupid. It's nuthin'. Can we just get back ta what we were doin'?"

Anybodys scoffs. "Why, so you can imagine feelin' up Officer Krusty?"

He groans, because dammit, he's never had a girl who could think before, and it's really annoying sometimes. "It's…it's really stupid," he repeats lamely. At her challenging look, he sighs. "Y'know…how we gotta stop foolin' around after awhile 'cause…well, _you_ know."

She nods, eyes still suspicious slits.

He runs a hand through his hair. "Well…sometimes I hafta think about somethin' else—somethin' _gross_—or else I'll, y'know…uh. Finish."

Anybodys stares at him, uncomprehending, before her face melts into an expression of horror. "You think about _Krupke_?" she screeches in disbelief.

He winces. "Uh, sort-a." He clears his throat. "Krupke in…a pink dress."

Anybodys actually scoots back in terror. "A-Rab, that's _disgusting_! That's…that's wrong on _so_ many levels!"

"I know it is; that's why I don't finish!" he insists, squirming in discomfort. "I mean, think about it: does the thought-a Krupke in a pink dress turn _you_ on?"

"_God_ no!" she gasps. "That's…it makes me wanna _barf_."

"Right, it's a turn-off," he explains hurriedly. "A really big one. An' when a guy's about ta finish, well, he needs a _really big turn-off_."

Anybodys considers this for a long moment. "So…every time we make out an' you get close…you think about…Krupke."

"Pretty much."

Anybodys crisscrosses her legs. "Do other guys…?"

He shifts again. "Well, it's not somethin' we really talk about…I know some guys think about dead puppies, but that don't freak me out as much as Krupke in a dress does."

She frowns. "Some guys think about _dead_—"

"It's better'n finishin'!" he says hotly, turning a violent shade of red. "It's hard fer us guys, Any!"

Anybodys smirks. "_Literally_."

"_That ain't funny, Anybodys_!"

* * *

Anybodys still isn't sure she understands why her boyfriend chose _Officer Krupke_, of _all_ things, to concentrate on while they're fooling around. She would at least try to pick something that isn't so _vomit_-inducing. Like school. School is just boring. Does boring count?

She doesn't even realize she's staring into space until Big Deal waves a hand in her face. "Earth ta Anybodys."

She blinks and sits up straight, closing her slack jaw. "What?"

Big Deal pops his gum. "Don't you get enough sleep in school?"

"I guess so." Anybodys hesitates, fiddling with her Coke bottle. "Hey, Big Deal? Can I ask you somethin'?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Sure."

She hesitates. "Before Clarice gave it up to ya, an' you two were foolin' around an' you were, y'know…_close_…how didja, y'know…cool off?"

Big Deal actually turns pink. "Oh, that? Uh…well…you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Anybodys stares. "It was Krupke in a dress, wasn't it?"

Big Deal winces. "Well…actually…yeah. Ya hafta admit, it's damn nasty."

Anybodys frowns. "Is this somethin' A-Rab got from you?"

Big Deal chuckles before turning to the jukebox. "Hey, Joyboy!"

Joyboy wanders over, sucking on his lollipop. "Yeah?"

"When you was foolin' around with Carole before she gave it up an' you got close, what did you think about ta cool off?"

The lollipop comes out of Joyboy's mouth with a _pop_. "Krupke in a dress." The lollipop returns to his mouth.

Anybodys's mouth falls open. "_All_-a you do that?"

"Like I said, it's damn nasty," Big Deal says with a sagacious nod. "An' it works better'n a cold shower sometimes."

"How many times d'ya hafta think about it?" she asks in awe.

The two boys trade looks. Big Deal clears his throat. "Well…it depends."

Joyboy sniggers. "Knowin' A-Rab, it's probably every five minutes."

Anybodys rolls her eyes but doesn't argue, because knowing her boyfriend, it's probably true. "Yeah, well, it ain't real complimentary, y'know, when yer boyfriend's thinkin'-a, well, _that_ while he's foolin' around with ya."

"Trust me, you'd rather he think about Krupke in a dress than finish," Big Deal says seriously.

"Or you could just put out for him," Joyboy points out with a smirk. In about five minutes, his lemon-flavored lollipop is crammed up his nose.

* * *

A-Rab is very relieved when Anybodys informs him that while she finds his cooling-off method completely disgusting and somewhat disturbing, she likes fooling around too much to stop just because of his more unsavory habits—which is how he finds himself on her bed, reclining against her pillows and resorting to his tried-and-true cooling-off method. A-Rab forces his thoughts to turn to Krupke wearing a pink floral dress; he clings to that image until the moment is over and he knows he's good for at least another ten minutes. He relaxes, rolling them over so that he's on top and doing things that, judging by that hum he hears in the back of her throat, she likes _very_ much. And then he hears it.

"_Schrank_."

He freezes, turning to stare at her. "_What_?"

She stares back. "What?"

"You said—"

"No I didn't," she interrupts, grabbing his shirt and yanking him back down to kiss her.

A-Rab forgets all about Schrank in about two seconds when he has to think of another police officer—and his pink dress.


	6. Christmas Without You

A/N: This was supposed to go up last night, but due to some technical difficulties (thank you, Microsoft, for not saving the changes I made to the document even after I clicked "Yes, save changes"), it's posting has been delayed until today. Because you all definitely care about that part, of course.

Unlike last chapter, this chapter is far from fluff. In fact, it's one of the darker—well, _angrier_—things I've ever written. Because, you know, not everyone has a holly, jolly Christmas. Anyway, if you were expecting Christmas fluff (which is what I was originally going for, and then it morphed into…this), it's just not happening. If, however, you don't mind mild angst with a Christmastime backdrop, I do hope that you'll read.

As always, any people, places, events, or pug dogs that you do not recognize are the property of **LCV Productions**. I would be more than happy to answer any questions you may have regarding anything in this chapter :)

Many, many thanks must go to **Vee, LoonyLovegoodLuvr, ncislover1111,** and **dizzyizzy123** for their reviews; they mean the world to me!

* * *

_Christmas Eve, 1957_

Anybodys wiped her nose angrily with her sleeve, glaring at the giant Christmas tree in the Rockefeller Plaza. It wasn't exactly on the way home from Doc's, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do. The others had drifted home hours ago, and, not wanting Doc to give her one of those pitying looks or try to offer her one of his spookily accurate observations about her not-very-merry-Christmas, she had split with no particular destination in mind.

She wasn't entirely sure how she had ended up at the Rockefeller Plaza; she remembered cutting through the Park instead of taking the subway, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of the biggest Christmas tree she'd ever seen.

There had been a time when she would've been amazed by the enormous tree bedecked in lights. Sissy used to take her every Christmas Eve so that they could ooh and aah with the tourists. They hadn't come to look at the tree in years—not since their parents had been hauled off to their respective institutions and Sissy had taken up streetwalking to support the two of them. Now, it was just another painful reminder of the way things used to be and the way things would never be again.

She heard the sound of snow crunching under shoes and whipped around, scowling as she recognized her fellow rank-and-file. A-Rab was the _last_ person she wanted to see tonight. "What're you doin' here?"

He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets and moving to stand beside her. "Nobody should be alone on Christmas," he murmured, determinedly avoiding her eyes.

She wanted to tell him to fuck off, she could be alone if she damn well pleased—but then she caught sight of the look in his eyes as he stared at the Christmas tree. He wasn't worried about her being alone on the one night everyone was supposed to be with loved ones—he was worried about himself. It was ironic, really, that he was trying so hard to get away from his family—and she would do anything to have one.

She turned back to the Christmas tree, oddly comforted by the fact that they were both alone and together on this night.

* * *

_Christmas Eve, 1960_

A-Rab turned off the radio angrily, not at all in the mood for Elvis and his fucking Blue Christmas. Fuck Christmas. And fuck _her_.

They argued constantly, but it had been one of those rare arguments that had ended with her leaving. That had been three days ago—and, judging from the space in the closet and her missing duffel bag, she wasn't planning on coming back anytime soon. He hadn't heard from her since she slammed the door on her way out. He had a feeling that, having started the whole thing, he ought to be the one to find her and apologize, but he was too proud to call and beg to speak to her. And he would have to beg; he knew perfectly well that after everything he'd said that night, it was going to take some serious groveling for her to listen to him. No, she was probably having one hell of a merry-fucking-Christmas right now with her sister and brother-in-law and little nephew.

He hated the idea of being alone tonight, if only because there was nothing to _do_. On the off-chance that there were still a few bars open, all of his usual drinking buddies would be with their families. He snorted. _Family_. He hadn't really had a family since his mother walked out on them two years ago. Anybodys _was_ his family.

And she was gone.

He would've liked to crash at Baby John's place, but Baby John still lived at home, and A-Rab was _not_ in the mood to put up with Mrs. Kowalski or Baby John's bratty little sister, Veronica. Or that annoying as hell pug dog of hers, Francis. He still had the key from when he used to live with Action and his kid, Elvis, back before he and Anybodys had moved into this place over the summer, and since Action hadn't asked for it back, A-Rab knew this meant he was welcome to crash there whenever he wanted. But then he remembered that Pauline was planning on spending Christmas with her baby daddy, and he was _not_ about to listen to his buddy and his former lay go at it all night. Not that he actually blamed them; he had had similar plans up until a few days ago.

He growled at the thought of his—girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend?—and spat on the floor. She would've pitched a fit if she'd seen it, and maybe it was because of this that he did it. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was waiting for her to materialize out of thin air and start whaling on him. When she didn't, he snorted and stalked to the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator to grab a beer. He thought he might have heard something as he knocked off the cap and took a swig, but nothing clicked with him until he heard a muffled kicking noise. He peered out of the kitchen, wondering who the hell was in his apartment.

It was her.

She stood in the doorway, pulling off her snow-speckled hat. Her gloves, coat, boots and duffel lay strewn on the floor; her nose and cheeks were red from the cold, and when she looked up at him, her eyes held that blue fire he had missed so, so much.

She kicked the door, and before it had even slammed shut, she had launched herself at him, wrapping her body around his—and around her punches and kisses, he realized that _she was back._

It wasn't until later, when they lay in a trembling, panting pile of tangled flesh and limbs and bed sheets, that he dared to ask, "Why're you here?"

She shifted, twisting around to look at him. "Nobody," she gasped, "should be alone on Christmas."

He stared at her for a long minute before curling his fingers in her short red hair and pulling her lips to his. She was here, beside him, and he wasn't letting go of her anytime soon.


	7. Happy Birthday

A/N: Since today is fanonically Anybodys's birthday, I thought I'd honor it with an update! I know I haven't updated in five months, and I'm sorry about that; unfortunately, it looks like this won't get updated for...well, a really long time, if ever. I've just kind of lost interest in WSS; I'm not sure if this is a temporary thing or if it's permanent. Only time can tell. But that's life, I suppose.

ANYWAY. Some things about this chapter. This takes place on May 15th, 1958, on Anybodys's sixteenth birthday. So she and A-Rab have just started dating. Anybodys's real name is Annie; I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this in previous fics, but just in case you haven't read those or you forgot (I can't blame you; it's been a while), there it is. Also, yes, there is indeed an Annie Street in Brooklyn; I took the liberty of searching Google maps for an Annie Street, and that was the closest one I could find.

Many thanks to **ncislover1111, viennacantabile, RhapsodyInProgress, LoonyLovegoodLuvr,** and **Iwait4theRain** for the reviews!

Enjoy, and Happy Birthday, Anybodys!

* * *

On Anybodys's sixteenth birthday, A-Rab (who had very unsurprisingly skipped school that day) climbed into her window and, without preamble, dropped a long, green sign with white lettering on her bed. "Happy Birthday," he declared, looking illegally smug.

Anybodys didn't like telling people (namely, the guys) it was her birthday, because they always pinched her and cackled, "Here's a pinch to grow an inch!" She had been hoping to just have cupcakes with her sister tonight and then fool around with A-Rab later, but Baby John, the idiot, took the liberty of announcing that she would be turning sixteen at Doc's the other night, so she had endured hours of pinching and goosing; the highlight of her day had been when Snowboy and Joyboy had forced her to stand still while Mouthpiece serenaded her with his rendition of "Happy Birthday".

Anybodys stared at A-Rab for a second before turning her attention to the sign on her bed. It read: _Annie Street_. Her eyes widened. "_Where_ did you get this?"

"From Annie Street; duh," he snorted, flopping on her bed.

"Yeah, an' where's that?" she wanted to know, because she had never seen or heard of an Annie Street in Manhattan.

He made a show of clearing his throat. "It's, you know…near Brooklyn Bridge."

Her eyes went even wider. "It's in _Brooklyn_?" She knew that anywhere across the river was a long way away, and Brooklyn was even farther; no wonder he'd been gone all day.

"Yeah, so?" he said, sounding peeved. "It's the only Annie Street in New York. I mean, I woulda nabbed one that said 'Anybodys Street,' but there ain't no such thing."

Anybodys stared for another moment before she crawled over to him and, stretching her body over his, kissed him soundly. When she pulled away to sit back on his hips, he gave her a dopey look. "Wish I'd stolen stuff fer you a lot sooner."

"Don't think yer off the hook yet," she warned, even though she wasn't completely serious. "You still owe me fer leavin' me alone all day while everybody kept tryin' ta pinch me. Why is that even a _tradition_?" she groused, rubbing her arm.

With an impish grin, A-Rab reached around her waist to pinch her rear. "I could always make it up to ya with a raunchy strip-tease."

Anybodys wrinkled her nose. "Ew, A-Rab, I want a present, not a scar fer life."

A-Rab frowned. "I ain't that bad-lookin'!"

"Ya kinda are, monkey-face," his girlfriend informed him flatly.

He looked up at her in indignation. "If I'm so ugly, why're you datin' me?"

"So I don't hafta worry about other girls lookin', duh," she snorted. "Now are we gonna fool around or what?"

Anybodys wouldn't call it a "sweet" sixteenth birthday, but it was the best she'd had in a while.


End file.
